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Viola

And so suddenly there is a viola in the next room,
mournfully cycling through scales,
up and down, slowly, then quickly,
octaves and octaves.

Oh viola! We are so different.
I can only cycle through one octave,
a low, eerie baying
that has become so familiar to me.

I cannot reach the heights you can.

Please, please
teach me--

teach me to ascend into notes that are just
barely discernable to the human ear.

Author notes

Uh. First draft and nothing special.

I got rid of the first stanza (because it was awful) and I have yet to replace it.

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Comments


  • luciagrace
    February 8, 2007
    Edit | Reply
    this is beautiful.
    it reminds me a lot of a friend of mine - she's ever so musical and i'm not, and i know that's the most simplistic and obvious interpretation, but she immediately sprang to mind when i read this. a mixture of jealousy and love...and you put it so wonderfully.


  • miss.misery
    January 28, 2007

    Edit | Reply
    nothing special? are you insane? i really liked this. a lot...especially the end. and sorry, i'm terrible at commenting things now..so i wont even make an attempt to explain how beautiful the whole idea is...and so on. argh. it's weird because below this box it says "analyse the effective use of the title/first line/last line" and if you read the first line, and the last...it makes a whole sentence. odd. great job though. keep it upppp.